


Forgiveness

by Maebe



Series: Before They Were Them [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Apologies, F/M, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maebe/pseuds/Maebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl finally earns Beth's forgiveness, but this was not the way he wanted it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This takes place before the major outbreak of illness and resulting walkers in D block. Still self edited and I wrote it while watching the Season 6 premiere so it may be riddled with errors.

She had been shivering. Body shakes so violent the whole bunk vibrated with it. Sometimes she would still a moment until another round built somewhere in her chest and she’d be rattling again like her muscles didn’t know what else to do. Sweat pooled beneath her, soaking the sheets. She’d already gone through two sets of pyjamas and sheets. The cycle seemed endless, vomiting and a fever, violent chills and sweats. Three days he’d sat in her cell, ignoring the others. He fed her weak broth and water while bathing her brow and neck with cool cloths. They’ve had illnesses before, sure. But not this severe. Hershel told him she was likely taking a bout of flu much harder than any of the others because she was so small, malnourished. None of their diets could be called healthy but there was no denying Beth needed better food. He’d see to that as soon as she stopped puking up whatever she tried to keep down. 

A soft moan stirred up from the back of her throat, hoarse and likely painful. She told him sometime during the night her throat hurt something fierce from all the puking. The shakes were slowing, but he didn’t want to trust it. Daryl slid forward, dunking a scrap of cloth in cool water before dabbing at her temple, sweeping the sweaty hair back from where it stuck limply to her forehead. He’d made the cloth from one of his old flannel shirts when the rough rasp of her wash cloth proved too much for her sensitive skin. No way he was adding to her distress with that piece of shit so he made his own. 

Her head turned slightly into the cloth but she didn't open her eyes, nor did she make another sound. 

“Beth? Y’awake girl?” His voice was soft, not wanting to disturb her if this was just a lull between fever sweats. 

It took a few moments before she responded, voice like rough gravel. “ D’nno. ‘M I dead?”

He almost laughed, kept gently sponging away the sheen of sweat. “Naw. Still kicking. Seen some walkers out there look better’n you though.”

Her smile was weak, just a quirk to the corner of her mouth but the swoop of joy it inspired nearly knocked him on his ass. Up ’til now she hadn’t had the energy to answer him. Maybe the sickness finally burned itself out of her system. If she felt well enough to talk surely she was getting better. 

She mumbled something too low for him to hear so he inched closer, tilted his ear toward her mouth. 

“What’s that?”

“Any of th’ soap left?”

Maybe not. Still, talking fever dreams was better than her silence. 

“I ain’t got no soap girl,” he replied, moving his cloth over her jaw and down her clammy neck. “Jus’ water to cool y’ off.” 

“No, th’ soap you got me. ‘Pology soap?”

“Why? You wan’ it now? Am I forgiven?” His tone might’ve been bitter three days ago, but now he could only find soft relief. He wanted her forgiveness so badly but he never wanted to earn it this way. Still. Forgiveness was forgiveness and he wouldn’t question it. 

Her eyes slid open slowly to gaze at him. They were glassy and bright but all Beth and seeing those eyes made him realize how much he missed seeing her. She said so much with her eyes…kinda like he did. Her hand came up to cover his and the wet cloth where they now rested, just over her exposed collar bone. 

“Was always g’nna f’rgive you. Jus’ took m’time.” 

His hand burned under hers. “Coulda told me that. Might not’ve risked getting my ass bit.”

Her smile widened, still a ghost of what he wanted to see but he’d take it. Take anything she had to give. 

“Naw. Wouldn’t’ve got nice soap.”

Daryl slowly swiped his thumb back and forth across he prominent ridge of her collarbone, words failing him like always. The soap was in his pack, stuffed down at the bottom and carefully wrapped in pair of socks too riddled with holes to wear again. He hadn’t wanted to look at his failed apology but he hadn't been able to get rid of it either. It was Beth’s soap. 

Beth’s eyes slid shut, exhaustion taking over. “F’rgive you. Promise.” 

“I know Beth. Didn’t doubt it for a second.”

She slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read guys! Drop me a review if you'd like to tell me what you think.


End file.
